Making Things Right
by Nahaliel
Summary: This really isn't the way Nick planned on telling Juliette about all things Grimm. Monroe isn't too happy about it either. Nick whump. Angst.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello there. I have decided to dedicate myself to writing another Grimm fic. Apparently, I cannot get enough Nick whump... Yes, you will find a fair amount of that here. And angst. Lots of angst. Thank you to the lovely LittleBounce, without whose amazing help and support I would never have been able to get this written out the way it is now. You, are simply, awesome. Happy reading...**_

* * *

There had been warning signs from the beginning. Maybe Monroe should have been clearer. Maybe Nick should have just listened. One thing is certain; this is _not _the way Monroe wants to spend his Friday night. It's not that he minds spending the evening with the Grimm. No. It's more the fact that Nick's lying unconscious next to him, and he can't tell _where_ all the blood is coming from because of the awkward way the two are linked at the wrists by a pair of unforgiving handcuffs. Oh, and there's also the little problem that poses Nick's girlfriend, who is currently clutching the Grimm's limp hand in hers and crying hysterically about scythes and horns and scales. Monroe knows she was bound to find out about all things Grimm_ eventually_, he just wishes there could have been a great deal less of said Grimm's blood involved.

* * *

Nick welcomes the calm, boring routine that Friday offers. Things are slowly slipping back into place; normalcy has almost returned. _Normalcy_, is having Juliette back in his life. He wakes gently as she places a soft kiss on his lips and glides into the shower, dropping a trail of lacy lingerie on the way.

Silence reigns that morning.

The simple fact of sitting in each other's presence, across from one another at the kitchen table with the knowledge that Juliette remembers, is enough. They bask in that plain, warm sense of security and Nick leaves for work with a refreshing feeling of contentment and the taste of her lips still lingering on his.

Monroe's early morning call-right in the middle of his usual Pilates session-doesn't strike him as odd. The tone of Monroe's voice alone should have been enough.

"Hey, man. Do you think you could drop by this afternoon? We, uh, we need to talk." Something in Nick's brain registers the tight voice. But he's only half-listening.

"Nick?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll try, I'm kind of busy, Monroe."

"Uh, okay… And, Nick? Just... Chill out on the Grimm stuff, ok?"

Now if that didn't scream that something was wrong. But Nick's still not listening, and hangs up without saying goodbye.

* * *

It's almost 8 pm by the time Nick pulls up in front of Monroe's house. The door is unlocked. Monroe's door is always locked. But nothing seems to be able to perturb Nick's mood today, and he lets himself in without a second thought.

"Monroe? It's me." Nick calls, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Monroe?" The living room is empty, an eviscerated clock lies on the coffee table, screws and tiny gears spread across the polished surface. No Monroe. Nick frowns a little, wondering where his Blutbad friend is, when finally a sound comes from the back room.

Monroe has his back to him when he steps through the door frame. He's standing, hunched over something, and very still.

"Monroe?" Nick says tentatively. Finally he turns around. He's holding something in his hands, and it takes Nick a minute to recognize the mangled object.

"Is that... Whose is that?"

It's a violin.

The varnished amber wood is splintered beyond repair, the spine of the instrument having been literally snapped in two.

"It's Roddy's." Monroe's voice is unearthly quiet and even. Nick's scalp prickles and he's suddenly, inexplicably afraid.

"How... How did that happen?"

Monroe's shoulders slump in an inaudible sigh as he turns to place the violin back on the desk. He's holding it with the utmost care, cradling the splintered neck as if it were that of an infant… It's only then that Nick notices the dark crimson flecked across the wooden carcass, staining the snapped strings.

"Is that blood?" Nick knows the answer. Maybe voicing it will make the truth less disturbing. Monroe turns to him, eyes a just little wider; the apparent calm in his demeanor is really starting to unnerve Nick.

"Reapers."

The one word shatters the quiet illusion of peace enveloping them and the anxiety in Monroe becomes shockingly visible. The shaking hands, the flitting eyes, the ever so slight tremble in the shoulders. Monroe's not one to get this worked up about things. Even when it comes to reapers.

"When, Monroe?"

"Last night. There were four of them. They just-they left me a box with that in it..." Monroe nods vaguely to the dismembered violin, "They said it was their final warning. About, y'know... The Grimm thing."

"And Roddy?"

The Blutbad swallows thickly. "He hasn't answered my calls, his dad hasn't seen him since yesterday morning..."

"Okay..." Nick drags a hand over his face, "We'll figure this out. In the meantime, grab some stuff. You're staying with us tonight."

"Nick, I can take care of myself. Reformed does _not_ mean incapable."

"Not up for discussion, let's go."

_Stubborn Grimm._

* * *

Dinner is _uneventful,_ to say in the least. The silence hanging over the table is heavy with unspoken words, filled with tangible unease. Juliette listens to the clinking of silverware against plates for a while, until she can no longer stand the absence of human voices.

"Well, you guys are quiet tonight. What's going on?" She sets down her fork and studies the two men sitting on either side of her. Monroe and Nick exchange a brief look.

"We're, uh, working on a case. A kid went missing…"

Juliette sighs, trying not to let the disappointment show on her face. One of the downsides of having found her memory again; they're back to the lies, the half-truth. She knows very well the look Nick gets when a case is bothering him. This is not it. She doesn't know what Nick is hiding, or why he won't let her in. God, she just wishes he would. She wants _him_ back now.

"That's awful. I hope you find the kid," Juliette replies quietly, and gets up to clear to the table.

As she disappears into the kitchen, it hits Nick. And makes the weight on his shoulders suddenly ten times heavier. He wants nothing more than to sit down with her for the hours it will take to tell her everything that's happened in the past months, everything he's kept from her. If only she would actually believe him.

"Stop thinking so loudly." Monroe's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "C'mon; let's not have your girl do all the work."

Monroe does the dishes.

"We should have you over more often; you're handy to have around," Juliette jokes. Nick just rolls his eyes.

He reaches out for Juliette's hand and pulls her close. She half-heartedly returns his kiss, and Nick's chest twists.

"We _will _talk," he whispers to her. Her heartbeat picks up a little. She hopes he means it. They share a quiet moment of gazing into each other's eyes, exchanging wordless promises. It would have been more intimate had a certain Blutbad not been able to hear each thump of their hearts, each intake of breath.

The calm dissipates abruptly.

Nick feels it before he sees it; it's like the oxygen has just been sucked out of the room. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Monroe stills too, sniffing the air. Juliette is oblivious; she's busied herself in putting away the clean dishes and resumed her quiet humming. Nick is completely deaf to it this time, aware of only the dark, inexplicable dread that uncoils in the pit of his stomach. Monroe dries his hands on a dish towel and cautiously makes his way into the living room. The Grimm follows.

"Nick?" He hears her call his name, somewhere in the back of his mind, but his instincts having taken over all other senses, his ears ring with the hypersensitivity to his surroundings. The two are almost to the front door when there's a tremendous crash from behind them.

* * *

The living room window shatters as if the weight of the heavy atmosphere finally caused it to implode. Glass sprays across the floor, the wooden frame splinters and shards rain down on them.

Juliette screams.

For a second everything is chaos; Nick catches a glimpse of red eyes and fur, a blur tearing past him. A blade glints as it twists past his face, narrowly missing him. There's a crash in the kitchen and a very inhuman screech. Then the world snaps back into focus.

Reapers. Four of them.

Monroe has two of them in a corner, growling viciously, Blutbad having the upper hand on human. The two others are in the kitchen—

_Juliette_.

She lies on the floor, hair spread out under her head like a red halo. A thin trickle of blood runs down her left temple. He's closed half the distance between them when one of the reapers lunges at him. Nick grips its wrist and pivots, twisting the limb until there's the loud pop of bone breaking. The reaper howls and lashes out with its scythe. The blade tears through the sleeve of Nick's shirt, just missing the skin. A vicious growl erupts from the other end of the room, followed by the loud, distinct sound of a neck snapping.

One down, three to go. The second reaper whips its arm around Nick's neck and drags him away from the first.

His scythe comes out of nowhere.

It rips a deep, burning path through fabric and flesh, all the way from his right shoulder down to the left side of his rib cage. Crimson spills from the wound, coating Nick's light blue shirt instantly.

Monroe's head snaps up as the overpowering, metallic tang of blood fills the air. Nick's blood. With a howl, he flings the reaper he's battling into the living room, where its body smashes the coffee table into pieces. Monroe roars, teeth bared and dripping with his first kill's blood, and goes for the creature still gripping Nick by the neck.

The reaper in the living room pulls itself from the splintered remnants of the coffee table, limbs cracking, and bones setting back into place. He eyes the struggle in the kitchen coolly, calculating. The Blutbad grips the reaper's face with a hand full of sharp claws and it releases the Grimm, who crumples to the floor. Monroe throws his head back with a vicious growl, ready to tear out the other creature's exposed carotid artery.

It's only until much later that he'll understand what hit him; his vision blacks out as soon as the hilt of the last reaper's scythe connects with the base of his skull. He crumples to the floor in a heap beside the Grimm.

* * *

It takes Nick what seems like hours to finally lose consciousness. His hearing deserts him first. It's like watching a silent film. A gruesome, silent horror film. His body won't move; the command can't travel from his brain. He's prisoner of his own immobile limbs.

Juliette lies a few feet away from him. She could almost be sleeping; her face is turned his way and looks disturbingly peaceful for the situation.

Suddenly, a pair of boot clad feet fills his vision, blocking out Juliette's beautiful face. He wants to scream, to call to her. The strangled whisper of her name that leaves his lips is lost even to him.

A hand curls around his collar and drags him upright; it's the last straw for his battered body. The colors in his vision all bleed together, ripping away any distinguishable shapes.

He can't hold on any longer, and the world is finally lost to darkness.

* * *

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Now for chapter 2. Changed the title of this story; I simply couldn't stand the first. Sorry about that, folks. So let's see... Nick whump, angst, hurt/comfort, bromance coming up... Thank you for the follows and the lovely reviews; it means a lot. Happy reading.**_

* * *

"Monroe ?"

He thinks—he _knows_ for a fact that it's too early to have someone prying him awake like that. He huffs in exasperation. Staying at Nick's house for the night was the dumbest thing he's ever agreed to…a couple of times. He'll never learn that the Grimm and his girlfriend get up _so damn early__._

"Monroe!"

This time his name is hissed loudly, urgently. _Ok, fine. I'm up_, he wants to say, but something closer to _mmnngh_ escapes his lips and he finds himself wondering how much wine they actually drank last night. He pries his eyes open and rolls his head to the side. _Ouch_. Even for one hell of a hangover, that white hot flash of pain at the base of his skull is not normal. He tries to lift his right hand, but it's too heavy, as if weighed down by a bricks. He opens his eyes fully.

"Shit."

This is definitely not Nick's guest room.

A musty and earthy smell stings his nostrils, as cold seeps into his very core from where his legs are stretched out on the damp, frigid ground. His back is pressed against an equally freezing stone wall.

"Monroe… Monroe? Monroe, please talk to me, tell me what's going on…"

The voice comes from his right, and he turns his neck, carefully, to see who it belongs to. _It_belongs to a rather distraught looking redhead; Juliette. She's sitting up against the wall, a few feet away from him. Strands of her red hair fall into her face, and her mascara has bled slightly, creating thick black tears streaking down from each eye.

"Juliette? Are you okay?" Monroe mumbles, awareness and fractured memories, gradually coming back to him.

"I'm… I'm f-fine," she stammers. Physically, she does look _fine_. The tear stains and tremors, however, tell a whole other story.

"But Nick… Where are we? I woke up and we were here, and you weren't saying anything and _Nick_-," she lets out a sob, "He's not moving, there's blood everywhere."

This ricochets through Monroe's skull like a firework. Blood everywhere? Come to think of it, the coppery tang hangs above them like a suffocating cloud only he can see, heady and nauseating in the confines of their…prison. It looks more like an average, musty basement; one naked light bulb hangs from a crooked wire in the center of the low ceiling.

"Please, help Nick," Juliette whispers, and Monroe finally looks down at the crumpled figure to his right. The shock of red covering Nick's once light blue shirt is what he sees first. And his eyes stay glued to the terrifying amount of blood that stains the fabric. The Grimm's face is partly obscured by his dark hair, it falls into his eyes. His ghostly pallor is all the more gruesome under the ugly light the lone bulb casts.

"Nick," Monroe tries, nudging him with his right elbow. He still can't move his hand.

Oh.

He's handcuffed to the Grimm's left wrist, the metal digging into his flesh and drawing his own blood. He'd barely noticed.

"Nick." He tries, louder this time. The Grimm remains oblivious. He's breathing, at least. What's gnawing at Monroe's nerve endings though, is the fact that he can't place where all the blood is coming from.

"M-mmonroe…?"

A weak voice calls his name. For a second, he thinks it's Nick. But there the sound is again, originating from across the small room, the part half obscured by shadows. Monroe squints, and his eyes fall on a pair of outstretched legs. He stares hard at where the face should be. Holy shit.

"Roddy!"

* * *

"Roddy, you okay, kid?"

"Wh-what the fuck d'you think?" the Reinigen bites back half-heartedly.

Roddy pulls himself from the darkness and leans back heavily against the wall. He's cradling his left arm close to his chest, and from where Monroe is sitting, he can see the dried blood matting the right side of the kid's face.

"M'fine... S'that Nick?"

Monroe's concern flares up at the sound of Roddy's slurred words.

"Yeah, that's Nick. Roddy, can you come closer? "

"Yeah..."

The kid makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like a whimper as he drags himself to his feet. He sways alarmingly for a second, then limps slowly to Monroe, gripping the wall hard. He slides to his knees beside the Blutbad and lets his head hang, panting.

"Juliette? Are you tied up?"

"No, no I'm not…"

"Could you come here and check on, Roddy, please?"

"But, Nick…" she whispers, unwilling to release his limp, clammy hand from hers.

"I'll take care of him, okay? I promise."

Juliette finally nods, shakily, and slowly makes her way to Roddy, where she sinks to her knees in front of him. Monroe watches. She takes a deep breath, centering herself. Monroe is pretty impressed with how she's pushed her worry for Nick into a corner of her mind to concentrate on the kid.

Roddy's eyes roll alarmingly in their sockets as he searches for visual purchase. Juliette places a hand on either side of his neck, thumbs aligned with the pulse points and slowly tilts his face up to look at her.

"Sh-she smells like a G-Grimm, Mm'nr'oe..." Roddy murmurs incoherently, eyes sluggishly searching for the Blutbad, "Her t-too?" The way he keeps dragging out his "m"s is disquieting.

"It's okay, Roddy," Monroe murmurs absently and turns to Nick's listless form.

"Okay, Grimm, let's see what we're dealing with..." He mutters under his breath.

"Monroe?" Juliette's voice causes him to turn back again.

"What's this Grimm you keep talking about?"

* * *

"Nothing. I think Roddy has a pretty bad concussion..."

"Can still hear you, man..." The Reinigen mumbles.

Monroe knows there's no way they're getting out of here without Juliette finally knowing about Nick's Grimm inheritance. _If they ever get out of here..._He pushes away the thought.

"Monroe?! What the hell are you doing?"

"I have to get the handcuffs off..."

"With your teeth? What the hell is wrong with-"

Monroe wolfs out, and Juliette shuts up, rooted to the spot.

"H-how did you just do that?"

She hadn't seen him woge, he'd made sure of that. He doesn't want her screaming hysterically in the confines of their tiny, stone mausoleum. His ear drums have taken enough shit for the evening.

So instead, she'd seen the Monroe she knows rip a pair of handcuffs apart with his bare teeth.

"I'll explain later." Monroe grunts, discarding the mangled handcuffs and kneeling in front of Nick.

First things first; he gently unbuttons Nick's blood soaked shirt and peels it away from the skin. He can't see much with all the blood; the smell hits his nostrils full force and it takes all the strength he possesses not to woge full force.

The gash running across Nick's chest is huge and it _looks_ scary, but Monroe realizes that _most_of isn't that worrisome. The slash running from his sternum to the left side of his ribcage is gruesome and will probably require stitches but thankfully isn't deep. The wound in his shoulder is a little worse. The skin looks like a piece of red clothing that's been torn apart at the seams. It's nearly stopped bleeding, which is good in a sense, but Nick's already lost a precious amount of blood from what Monroe can tell.

"Oh my god..." Juliette whispers, "How did that happen? How did they even do that? Who were they, Monroe? What do they want?"

He shushes her absentmindedly and to his surprise, she actually listens.

"I need your sweater."

She looks puzzled, but he doesn't hold it against her, she's probably never had to sew up a puppy that's been sliced open by a fucking reaper. Still, she shrugs it off and hands it to him. He pulls his own sweater over his head-he just _had_to wear white today-and folds it into a small square.

"Hold his head for me."

Juliette obeys, as Monroe gently pulls Nick from his half sitting position against the wall to lay flat on his back on the floor.

Nick's face is pale and bathed in sweat; he's still unconscious, and Monroe wonders when he should start to worry about that. He places his folded sweater over the shoulder wound and let his hands hover hesitantly over it. He takes a deep breath, and flattens his hands, on over the other, on the cloth.

A soft cry escapes Nick's lips and his eyes flutter. They roll dazedly around in their sockets and for a second Monroe is scared, _really scared_the Grimm's gone into hypovolemic shock or something, until they fall on Juliette's face.

"J'liette… y'okay?" He croaks. He tries reaching out a hand, but can't lift off the floor so she grabs it in hers and squeezes it gently.

"I'm fine," she murmurs, placing a kiss on his sweaty forehead.

"M'nr'oe?"

"Hey, man, you back with us?" Monroe slips Juliette's sweater under Nick's shoulder and ties each end firmly around the makeshift bandage. This elicits a small choking sound from Nick, who goes a shade paler, if that's even possible.

"Breathe, man… I know this sucks."

After a minute or so, he looks more composed and draws in a shuddering breath.

"I'm good."

"Sure you are," Monroe grunts. "Just lay still, will ya?"

Something that looks suspiciously like a pout crosses Nick's face and despite their situation, Monroe's lips quirk slightly.

Roddy shuffles over on his hands and knees and Monroe frowns.

"Roddy?" Surprise, then concern wash over Nick's drawn features, as the Reinigen kneels down beside him. The kid is having a hard time keeping his head from falling to his chest.

"You okay?" Nick turns his head to get a better look at him. What he sees first, is Roddy's left hand. His heart sinks.

"Monroe..."

Monroe sees it too. Each finger is broken and bloody, as if someone had snapped them one by one. The palm and back of the hand are severely cut and bruised.

"They... M-my hand... Why?" Roddy mumbles, and finally loses his fight with gravity. Monroe intercepts him before his head hits the floor and gently guides him to lie on his back, supporting his head and neck.

"Is he okay?" Nick pants, eyes wide.

"Shut up, _stupid_Grimm. You got your shoulder torn open by a bunch of fucking reapers, and you're asking if the others are okay? I swear I'll kill you one day."

Nick wheezes, but Monroe's pretty sure it's supposed to be a laugh. It just makes him want to kill the Grimm even more. He doesn't even know how the guy's still conscious; he's glad he his. Juliette is staring hard at the Blutbad.

"For the last time, _w__hat the hell_is a Grimm-?!"

She's cut off mid-inquiry but a door none of them had noticed swinging open with a resonating bang.

Three reapers, standing at least six foot each, step into the room.

"I'm glad to see you're awake..." The one in the middle says. The drawn out "s" hangs in the damp air, sharp and venomous. Monroe's heart sinks; it's an unmistakable hiss. The three reapers drop their hoods, unveiling their full Wesen form.

A Königschlange and two Skalengecke, scales rippling into place on their vicious snarls.

Juliette's scream echoes painfully off the walls of their cold, stone tomb.

* * *

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3, folks. Thank you for the reviews and the follows; it means a lot and it's always nice to hear what you think. Angst, whump... The usual with me, I guess. Thank you, lovely, lovely LittleBounce, for your never ending support and help. Happy reading...**_

* * *

Pain.

White, hot and unrelenting, coursing through every nerve ending in his body. There's a vicious hiss close to his ear.

"Maybe he's had enough for now, sir. We don't want to kill him just yet."

The pressure on his shoulder lets up slightly.

"Developing a soft side for the Grimm are we, Kaelen?"

Then it's back again, full force; he is acutely aware of the thumbs digging into his already torn flesh, as everything else spins in and out of focus. Another scream is torn from his lips.

"Perhaps you're right. Wouldn't want him to die on us so early on. Donovan, with me. Kaelen. You can finish up."

The fiery touch relents, at last, and Nick is left choking in agony, chin to his heaving chest. There are footsteps, from somewhere he can't pinpoint through the haze. Behind him; in front of him; to the far right, echoing off the stone walls; sounds are distorted, seeping in and out like waves, in rhythm with the pain pulsing through him.

Then there's silence.

Nick doesn't know how long he's been here, in this dark, damp room. The chair is pressing into his back as he shakes, breath hitching from the fire spreading through his lungs and shoulder. He's alone.

The pain recedes the slightest bit, and he pries his eyes open. His chest is coated with a new layer of blood; the sight of it makes him sick and he chokes on the bile rising in his throat.

"Take a deep breath, Nick…"

The soft hiss comes from somewhere in the shadows cast by the single, ugly light bulb. Nick's eyes flit from one dark corner to the next as his heart flutters frantically in his chest and his head spins all over again.

A strong hand comes to rest on the back of his neck; his eyes slide shut.

* * *

Red, red, red, red.

It's all he sees. All he hears.

It's the color of the blood that spilled out from under Nick's bandage when they dragged him upright and out of the room. It's the color of the agonized screams that shatter the air at ragged intervals. It's the color of Monroe's palms; his claws are cutting into them, the blood oozing thick and slow inside his clenched fists.

The screams stop.

Juliette sucks in a shuddering breath and uses her sleeve to wipe away the tears streaming down her face. Monroe watches her carefully, through the ebbing red in his vision, as he tries to calm his own pounding heart. He can breathe again, the wolf in him has calmed, curled up in a corner somewhere deep inside him.

And Monroe's starting to wonder if Roddy hasn't gone into a coma; the kid hasn't moved through it all.

"Roddy?" he tries, leaning over and cupping the kid's cheek with a big hand. He doesn't even stir.

He takes a deep breath, he doesn't want to do this, but he can't let the kid go brain dead, can he? The slap bounces off the stone walls and Juliette turns to him, eyes wide.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she sniffles, crawling over to Roddy's other side.

A soft moan escapes Roddy's lips and Monroe lets the ghost of a smile grace his own.

"'M up… 'm up. Wh-what th'hell s'wrong with'you, m'n?"

"Good to have you back."

"Mmmh…"Roddy mumbles and lets his eyes close.

"Ah ah, no sleeping on the job." Monroe's taps his cheek again.

Juliette moves in beside him, gently bracing Roddy's head with both hands, keeping it off the cold, hard ground.

"S'that th'Gr'mm girl?" Roddy murmurs and Juliette bites her lip.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Jus' d'n't hurt me, 'k?"

Juliette tries to form a word several times before letting her shoulders slump and whispering to Monroe, "What does that mean?"

"We're going to need to have a little talk," Monroe grumbles, "After I make sure this one doesn't have any permanent brain damage."

"Mm… Y're the one with'perm'nent brain damage…"

Monroe scoffs. So no permanent damage, it seems. Good.

"Let me help," Juliette offers quietly. Monroe nods. He's got to give the girl credit; she's had to sit through thirty minutes of her boyfriend screaming in agony in another room, and she's still responsive.

"You're doing fine; just keep his head still like that."

Monroe leans over and peers into Roddy's eyes. Not so good. Even in the dim light, he can see how wide the pupils are blown, leaving only a sliver of blue visible around the edge of the irises.

"Can'we jus' go, M'nroe? Why does m'head h'rt?"

Monroe's fingers travel across Roddy's forehead, probing methodically and carefully. The kid whimpers quietly when they hit a spot just beneath his hairline, on the right side of his head, where the dried blood seems to originate from.

There's deep, bloody gash under Roddy's curls, it's swollen and gruesome, and obviously hasn't been properly disinfected.

"Ow… Th't hurts… Mm'nroe…"

"I know, buddy, I'm sorry," he says quietly. "What did they do to you?"

Roddy's good hand comes up, trying to grasp Monroe's wrist, but he's shaking badly and misses twice before Monroe grips his hand firmly in his.

"'Was jus' walking home and…. Th-they jumped me… Two of them… M-my hand—," the shaking increases, and Monroe reaches out to squeeze the kids shoulder, "Then they hit me… I d'n't remember… I woke up here…"

Monroe opens his mouth to ask what happened next when another scream shatters the air.

* * *

"Nick."

His head feels so heavy.

"Nick. Come on back."

Two strong, warm hands come up, bracing his sore neck and gently lifting his head up.

"M'nroe…?"

"No, sorry… But I'm as close as you've got to a friend right now."

Nick opens his eyes, and a Skalengeck comes into focus in front of him. He tries to back away, gritting his teeth against the white, searing knife of pain it sends through his chest.

"Whoa, easy. You're going to tear the wound further. Don't move."

It's not Donovan, but the second Skalengeck; the one with the smoother face, and no scars. He studies Nick for a few seconds, then woges back to his human form, scales rippling away to reveal the man under the beast. He's young; thirty tops, with dark hair and kind, black eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, voice smooth and even. The man's hands are soft and strong against his face.

"Nick? I'm Kaelen. Let me help you."

"Wh-why would y'wanna help me?" Even talking hurts.

"I need to help you," the guy actually _looks_ genuinely concerned, "You won't last much longer if I don't. Please let me."

Nick draws in a shuddering breath and nods. Pondering why this guy wants to help him is too much for his brain.

_Helping _turns out to be agony; and he can barely suppress the scream that cuts its way past his clenched teeth. He fades out at some point, when Kaelen is disinfecting the shoulder wound, and the next time he's able to open his eyes, he's staring down at his bandaged chest and Kaelen is lightly tapping the side of his face.

"Nick? You with me?" It takes the Grimm a little too long to focus.

"I'm going to help you out of here. Okay?" Kaelen glances over his shoulder at the massive door, then back. "Just hang in there for now. Nick? Can you do that?"

Nick swallows thickly, trying to concentrate. This reaper really wants to help him? The pain is rolling back in; his hands curl into shaking fists.

"Why would'you d'that?" he manages to choke out.

"I knew a Grimm once."

Nick watches Kaelen's eyes go dark with deep memories and emotions. Grief.

"Her name was Caitlin," the way he almost whispers her name sends a shiver down Nick's spine. "She was a lot like you. Not like her violent ancestors. She was killed… by reapers. I couldn't get there fast enough…"

Nick's chest aches, as he finds himself thinking of Juliette. "Then why...become a r-reaper?"

"It was the only way I could get close enough to the man who murdered her." Kaelen's eyes flash darkly, intent. "Donovan."

It's getting harder to follow; Nick struggles to keep his head up. "Wh-why haven't y'kill'd him yet?"

"I had to keep him from killing you first. You're not like the other Grimms, Nick. Them coming after you... It was just to satisfy a personal vengeance against your kind. You've done nothing like what past Grimms have done."

There's something Nick needs to ask, he struggles with his sluggish brain, squeezing his eyes shut against the awful spinning. The blood loss is starting to take its toll.

"…Help them… Juliette, M'nroe… Roddy…"

"I'll take care of it. Nick, just—" The door clangs open, and the Königschlange and Donovan step back into the room.

"I think you're work is done here, Kaelen," the Königschlange hisses, he twists his neck to face Donovan and gestures toward Nick with a flick of his head. "Take him back, both of you."

Kaelen and Nick lock eyes; Nick's are bright, shimmering with the intensity of the pain, Kaelen's are cool, reassuring filled with his silent promise. Donovan grips Nick's arms on his injured side and yanks him to his feet.

* * *

Monroe and Juliette have managed to get Roddy coherent enough to sit up against the wall, and allow them to take a closer look at his hand. The damage is pretty extensive and Monroe's heart aches for the kid, as he thinks of the splintered violin lying in his workshop back home.

"D'n't think I'll be able t'play anym're…" Roddy whispers, ice blue eyes focused sharply on Monroe for the first time since they found him. They glisten, overly bright in the harsh, yellow light.

Juliette looks up to the ceiling, and a single tear tracks its way down her cheek.

Monroe doesn't know what to tell the kid this time. He's lost the thing that gives him purpose in life, because he's been dragged into a fight that's not even his. The red is back, swirling around the edges of his vision, burning in his limbs.

"I know, Roddy. We'll fix this, okay?"

The kid lets out a soft, dry sob. "H-how w'll y'fix this?"

Monroe is saved from voicing an answer he realizes he doesn't have, because suddenly the two Skalengecken are there, in the doorway, bracing a severely swaying Nick in the middle of them.

"Let go, Kaelen," Donovan growls, and Monroe watches as the second Skalengeck steps back slowly—_reluctantly_, almost. The one that had spoken to him earlier, he realizes.

The only thing keeping Nick upright now is the vice like grip Donovan has around his right biceps. He looks down at the Grimm, disgust and contempt etched in its scaled features. Then he throws Nick to the floor, sending him skidding through dirt.

Monroe lunges, trying to brace Nick's fall and out of the corner of his eye he sees Kaelen jerk ever so slightly, like he'd stopped himself at the last moment from lurching forward to help Nick too. The Blutbad rolls the pliant Grimm over onto his back; his face is ashen and now there's a fresh cloud of blood staining the new bandages.

Donovan scoffs and turns on his heel. "Kaelen, keep an eye on them." The door slams and the lock clicks again.

The three Wesen left in the room stare hard at each other, calculating. Even Roddy is more alert, he's pushed himself to his knees, and his eyes dart from Kaelen to Monroe and back. Silence hangs above them, heavy with tangible tension; the only sound in the room is Nick's soft, labored breathing.

* * *

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

**_Chapter 4 is up. Took me a while. Thanks for the reviews, favorites and follows; means a lot. LittleBounce: I really don't know what I would do without you. Happy reading._**

* * *

It takes Monroe a second to realize that Nick is trying to say something. The words are badly slurred, and muffled; Nick's face is pressed against Monroe's flannel clad shoulder. The Blutbad grunts, reluctantly detaching his gaze from the Skalengeck's, and shifts Nick a little. The Grimm doesn't open his eyes, his sweaty brow simply scrunches into a brief, pained expression and his lips move again. "K-kaelen…helped…"

Monroe almost rolls his eyes. Almost. He doesn't know how the guy does it; out of all the hideous Wesen, Nick always manages to find the ones with a good side. The Blutbad studies the fresh bandages and the way the Skalengeck's eyes flick down to Nick's form every so often.

"So," Monroe begins conversationally, though he's trying to keep the growl out of his voice, "Are you the one that helped him?" Kaelen stills at this.

Then he slowly woges. Juliette gasps again, and Monroe stares; the kind, soft features seem so out of place on such a heartless creature.

"I tried," Kaelen replies finally, "But he's going to need proper help soon." The Blutbad frowns and Nick stirs again.

"M'nroe..."

His eyes are open now, and despite the fact that they're roaming a little dazedly, he's awake and gripping the Blutbad's sleeve in a clammy hand. Kaelen shoots a quick glance at the door, and a brief look of fear clouds his features. Then he turns back to Monroe, dark eyes shimmering intently.

"I can help you. Please. Trust me."

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" Monroe exclaims, louder than intended, and they all still for a second, listening to the sound bounce off the walls. That's getting old. And Monroe's ears hurt.

"There's no other way," Kaelen says calmly, "She's the only one that can leave."

"We're in the middle of the _forest, _who knows how far from the edge."

Kaelen opens his mouth again but Juliette holds up a hand. "Just stop, both of you. I'll go. I'm not incapable, Monroe." The wolf's eyebrows go up. "Kaelen, tell me what I need to do."

The Skalengeck's left hand slides into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a handful of small objects. He slowly makes his way to Juliette. She's put on a brave façade, but stills moves back fractionally, as kneels down in front of her.

"Take these," Kaelen picks up her hand and places the objects in her outstretched palm. A flashlight, a cellphone and an rusting key. "When you're outside, all you have to do is run. Run straight ahead, and you'll reach the edge of the forest. Call for help when you get there. But Juliette," her gaze comes up to meet his, and an ounce of the tension bleeds from her shoulders as she stares into those dark, trusting eyes, "You need to hurry."

She nods, eyes wide, and carefully pockets the items.

* * *

"Nick."

Soft, cool fingers brush across his forehead, and through his hair. The voice is soft; he knows it well.

"Nick… Open your eyes," it says again. _Juliette_.

He's finally able to pry his eyelids open, but they feel so, so heavy. Juliette is smiling gently down at him, eyes wet. His upper body rests across her lap; his head is tilted back slightly over her forearm as she carefully cradles his neck.

She brushes her thumb across his cheek and whispers a relieved "Hi." He wants to answer; his voice won't work.

A tear slides down her cheek and Nick tries to bring a hand up to wipe it away, but lifting it only a few inches seems to drain all his strength and he lets it fall back to the floor.

"Nick." For some reason, the tone of her voice scares him. "I'm going to get help, okay? But I'll be back… I'm going to get Hank."

_No. _"No…" he croaks, swallowing thickly.

"It'll be fine. Kaelen will help you, and Monroe and Roddy out," she cups his face with a gentle hand and leans down to kiss him. His lips are so cold.

"Be…careful," his voice catches in his throat and she nods, lips quivering slightly.

"I love you, Nick." Kaelen kneels down on his other side. "You need to go, Juliette."

To Nick, as he watches her leave and the door swing shut behind her, it's like losing her all over again.

* * *

Kaelen returns, alone, what seem like hours later, kicking the door shut behind him.

"They know she's gone."

He directs his piercing gaze on Monroe and the Blutbad tenses in response, sensing the urgency. "They'll be back in here soon. There are only two of them, but Donovan's dangerous."

The red has already started to seep into Monroe's eyes, features sharpening into his Blutbad form and fur spreading along his jaw.

"Roddy, you stay back. And keep Nick out of the way." Monroe's voice is low and gravelly; it's dropped at least an octave.

Loud footsteps sound in the hall.

Kaelen backs away from the door, falling into place next to Monroe, and woges, burnished green scales replacing his soft, human features. Roddy inches closer to where Nick lays on the floor, drifting in and out of consciousness.

The Königschlange throws the door open with such force, it jumps off of its hinges.

"Where is the girl?" he roars, advancing on Kaelen. Donovan positions himself in front of Monroe, who's fully woged and breathing hard, instincts raging murderously against the threat.

"Gone," Kaelen hisses back and the Königschlange's hand flies out, fingers wrapping around his neck.

"I should have known you'd disobey. When will you learn?"

Kaelen snaps.

Donovan lets out a vicious screech and bares several rows of razor sharp teeth; Monroe roars and tackles him to the floor.

The Königschlange and Kaelen grapple with each other's iron grips, until the latter gains the upper hand, twisting around with the Königschlange wrist still held tightly in his fist. There's a sickening crack, and the snake screeches in pain. Kaelen leaves him momentarily impaired and writhing, and darts to Monroe's aid.

Donovan has the Blutbad pinned to the wall, one scaled arm pressed across his neck, the other, raking sharp claws down a thigh to keep him still. Kaelen rips the Skalengeck away, and Monroe, freed, stops the recovered Königschlange short in its lunge toward Kaelen's exposed back.

Gripping the snake-like head in one enormous clawed hand, Monroe wrenches his neck taught and tears through the scaled flesh and carotid artery. Blood sprays from the wound, the Königschlange goes limp in Monroe's grasp and the Blutbad tosses him to the floor.

He turns back to where Kaelen is struggling with Donovan and a furious roar is torn from his lips.

Kaelen is pulling himself off the floor, and Donovan, free of any hindrances, is tearing towards Nick and Roddy. Monroe follows, blood roaring in his ears.

And then, everything happens in slow motion, because Monroe's legs just won't seem to move.

Donovan lunges, teeth bared, tongue flicking out. In a last burst of strength, Nick rolls over onto his hands and knees and out of the way. Monroe feels a rush of air next to his left; it's Kaelen tearing past him. The Skalengeck grips Donovan by one shoulder and wrenches him away from the Grimm and Roddy, sending him sprawling through the dirt.

There's a last, blood curdling screech and a horrific spray of blood, and the world comes to a stop.

Kaelen is straddling Donovan's inert form. The Wesen features ripple away on the dead man, revealing a sickly, scarred face, all dark stubble and dark hair. His throat has literally been ripped away, blood streams down Kaelen's claws and chin.

He woges, and rolls off Donovan.

The hair obscuring his expression falls away when looks up at Monroe. His face is a gruesome sight; blood drips down his chin in crimson rivulets, and stains his teeth pink.

"M'nroe?"

The tone of Roddy's voice snaps him painfully back to human, and he sinks to his knees by Nick. The Grimm has fallen back to the floor, arms too weak to support him, and there's a large, red stain spreading across his chest again. He's awake though, and when he sees the blood on Monroe's face, his eyes search frantically for the wound. "M'nroe, y'hurt?" he croaks and the Blutbad shakes his head quickly.

"I'm going to pull you to your feet. Ready?"

Monroe's braces a strong palm under the Grimm's shoulders and grips his hand tightly in the other.

"One, two, three…" Nick can barely suppress a cry. His vision whites out, ears ringing, but Monroe's voice calling his name drags him back.

"Whoa. Okay, there you go." Monroe pulls Nick's good arm across his shoulders and lets him lean the majority of his weight against him.

Kaelen helps Roddy up and leads the way out of the cell. They meander through stone corridors with dirt floors until they reach an opening, then suddenly they're out in the forest.

And it's freezing.

Their breath creates puffs of white that hover before their mouths in the frigid air. Nick's teeth have already started chattering; Kaelen slips his jacket off, and gently helps the weakly protesting Grimm struggle into it.

They set off through the trees. It's a slow journey; Monroe's half dragging, half carrying Nick, the guy is stumbling over his own feet. He needs a hospital fast. Kaelen keeps shooting worried glances over his shoulder, and it makes the hairs on the back of Monroe's neck stand. Did they miss something?

He's suddenly, violently separated from Nick, who crumples to the forest floor from the loss of support, and thrown a few yards away. He lands flat on his back with a thud and the air is forced from his lungs with a whoosh. He squeezes his eyes shut tight against the black spots invading his vision. There's a painful thump against his chest and the sharp sting of claws digging into his shoulders.

Monroe's eyes snap open to the bloody, hideous face of the Königschlange, hovering inches from his own.

* * *

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5 is up. Sorry for the wait, guys. Thank your for the reviews and follows; it means a lot. And thank you to the ever-supportive and insanely helpful LittleBounce. This one's for you. Happy reading...**_

* * *

Her feet pound hard against the frozen forest floor, as she tears through the trees. Twigs snap under her feet, branches crack as she flicks them out of her way. The only sound is her breathing, coming in short, sharp pants, as she desperately drags the icy air into her lungs.

Moonlight streams through the gaps in the mossy ceiling hundreds of feet above her, eerily lighting patches along her path. Her hands are frozen, numb, and she grips the flashlight tightly in her white fingers, the beam bouncing along the thick carpet of moss and dead leaves that is the forest floor to the rhythm of her footsteps.

Juliette shoves her free hand into her pocket and retrieves the cellphone.

Still no signal.

She curses loudly, breathlessly and the sound echoes off the dead trees. She doesn't stop running. She can't. Not with Nick still far from being safe. Burning tears of frustration sting her eyes as a vivid flash of Nick's bloody chest and ghostly white face flits through her mind.

A thin, crooked branch catches her in the cheek, cutting the soft skin. She ignores it, face numb from the cold. It seems like hours since she started running.

When she was sure neither of those... creatures Kaelen worked with was following, she'd devoted all her energy to running that straight line, through the freezing cold.

Her mind is a mess. A mess with the terrifying reality of their situation, with the thought Nick's declining condition, with a million questions about _what the hell_ happened.

She'd seen some pretty implausible things lately, _Nick_ _related things_ and situations, but this? She can't chalk their captors' reptilian appearances up to the blow she'd taken to the head. And it's scaring her to death, because she has a feeling this isn't an isolated incident. Monroe seemed pretty aware of what was going on, and so had Roddy. When had he and Nick met anyway?

Realizations are slowly forming in her head, conclusions she doesn't want to draw, but knows with a sinking feeling that they may be right. Whatever made those men—things—so angry with Nick... Is what he's been hiding.

The lies. The distance.

Her heart tightens so painfully she almost stops running. _Nick_. She wants him here with her, right now. She's so, so sorry she didn't listen. And hopes it's not too late.

**000**

Juliette finally bursts through the last of the trees and staggers to a halt on the deserted strip of asphalt that wraps its way around the edge of the forest.

She squeezes her eyes shut at the ugly orange glow of a single street lamp pooling around her. The road is slick with black ice and brutally cold against her knees, as she sinks to the ground.

Gasping for air, she wrenches the phone from her pocket and gives a desperate and breathless laugh. There's a signal. Hank picks up on the second ring.

"Mmm'hello?" The detective grunts, obviously roused from a deep sleep.

"Hank!" She gasps, "Thank god!"

"Juliette? Are you okay? What's going on?"

"We-we need help. Hank... It's Nick, there were these people—things, I-Nick, he's hurt bad. You need to come!"

There's rustling on the other end of the line and a hurried footsteps. "Ok, it's okay, calm down. Start by telling me where you are." Juliette lifts her head up for the first time. She recognizes the place.

It's twenty miles from the edge of the city, and the precinct is on the other side of the forest.

* * *

A drop of blood hits Monroe square between the eyes.

The Königschlange hisses viciously, still pinning him painfully to the ground, and his forked tongue flicks out. Heart pounding, Monroe tries desperately to woge again. It's not working; he's still seeing stars from smacking into the tree trunk. The Königschlange's hisses again, flat lips curling back to reveal thin, sharp fangs, and leans down closer to his exposed neck.

The strength to woge still hasn't returned, and Rosalee's beautiful face pops unbidden into his mind.

Suddenly the Königschlange is lifted off of him, by a seemingly invisible force and flung into the air. Monroe gasps unexpectedly at the relieved pressure and scrambles to his feet. The invisible force had been Kaelen, who's towering over the fallen snake a few feet away.

Nick's in the same position Monroe had (unwillingly) left him in, panting on his hands and knees, and Roddy is leaning-drooping against a tree trunk to his left. The force to woge returns, his features snap into wolf's from the restraint, and he advances on the two reptilian Wesen, as they struggle violently.

"Stay back!" Kaelen growls at him. Monroe hesitates, then obeys, retreating back to Nick, to make sure the guy is still conscious.

Kaelen hisses and, gripping the Königschlange by the neck, reaches down to his belt and wrenches his knife free. The snake's neck is still bleeding heavily, and judging by the amount smeared across his shoulder and face, he's not going to last much longer.

"What am I going to do with you?" The Königschlange breathes into Kaelen's face, "I always knew you had other things on your mind than just a reaper's purpose."

"You're fighting a battle you've already lost," Kaelen growls back and swiftly brings his knee up, hooking the snake sharply in the chin. He's tossed over backwards and lands flat on the ground. Kaelen straddles the fallen snake, pinning him to the forest floor.

"Kill me," the Königschlange hisses, tongue flicking out tauntingly. Kaelen doesn't hesitate, and drives the knife home. The snake jerks, mouth opening in a silent cry.

"I've...always...told you not...to act so...impulsively. It'll get you..._killed_."

The air leaves his lungs in a final, soft hiss and his eyes go blank.

**000**

Monroe's head snaps up. The smell of blood invades the area, hanging heavily above them. It's different this time, not just the bitter, nauseating tang of the Königschlange's. A new scent. New blood. He turns back to where the fight that has now ceased and finds Kaelen on his knees, beside the now, officially dead Königschlange.

There's a knife sticking out of his chest, lodged just under the sternum.

"Shit, shit, shit," Monroe curses as he hurries over and sinks to his knees in front of the Skalengeck. Kaelen's human features snap back into place and he slumps a little further. Blood drips from the corner of his mouth.

"It's okay," Kaelen chuckles weakly at Monroe's concerned frown.

"What? No, it's not. Okay. Okay. Just-"

Kaelen lifts two shaking hands and grips the knife tightly. Monroe's eyes widen. "Wait, don't-" Kaelen thrusts the knife back out with an agonized cry and blood flows freely from the open wound. Monroe gently pulls him down to lie on his side.

"Why didn't you let me help?" Monroe studies the man's face, the color draining from it.

"Y-you need...to get Nick help...k? Juliette will be back...soon... Go."

"Let me help you."

"It's okay," Kaelen smiles shakily; his teeth are bloody, and a cloud of red bubbles over his lips. His eyes slide shut.

"Kaelen?" The man doesn't move. Monroe presses trembling fingers to his neck and his stomach drops. No pulse. There's blood everywhere; all the way down Kaelen's front and congealing on the frozen ground under them. It's seeped into one of Monroe's pant legs.

"M'nroe? Is he dead?" Roddy's voice quivers weakly behind him. Monroe takes a last look at Kaelen's white, white and peaceful features.

"We need to go."

* * *

Hank had told Juliette not to move, but their phone call seemed like hours ago.

Cold is slowly seeping into her very core; she's clad only in the light sweater she'd been wearing around the house before it all happened. Every sound makes her jump, heart pounding in her ears, as she scans the dark mass of dead tree trunks for threats. She rubs her hands vigorously up and down her arms, trying in vain to generate some heat.

Suddenly, the sound of an engine breaks the silence, and headlights illuminate the trees and frozen road. The car swings around the corner, and Juliette jumps out of the way as it screeches to a halt a couple feet away from her. Hank steps out and rushes towards her.

"Shit! Juliette, are you okay?" He rips his jacket off, drapes it over her shoulders and she takes his hand in hers, squeezing it.

"Hank, you need to send back up; they're out there by themselves. Nick… He's hurt badly."

"Tell me what happened. From the beginning. I've already sent a team into the forest with an ambulance, and the captain."

He bundles her into the car, swerves it around and tears back around toward town.

**000**

Explaining is harder than she expected. She's more shaken than she thought; she can barely get the words out and chokes up severely when she explains Nick's injuries.

She doesn't know how she's going to explain the creatures. She tries. Maybe it's the knock to the head, maybe it's shock, but she goes ahead and tells Hank everything. About scaled faces, scythes and snake-like men.

Hank stares at her. Then something flashes in his eyes, a _look_ that lasts a nano-second, and then is gone.

"You know."

Juliette's blood goes cold.

"What? What should I know, Hank?"

Hank grips the steering wheel hard and fixes the road ahead of him.

"_Hank_. Nick is lying somewhere in that forest bleeding to death because of something I don't know—_because of all this_. Tell me."

"It's not that simple."

"This is what he's been hiding from me?"

"Juliette," the tone of his voice snaps her mouth shut, "Nick is...special. He can see things. Things we can't. It's been like that for a while."

"Those men... There are more like that? Why can Nick see them?"

"Yes. And Nick, well, he has this gift. Or curse. The thing is, he sees them all the time. You only saw it tonight because they wanted you to see them."

It's like she's just been punched in the gut. "All the lies... Were because of this?"

Hanks smiles sadly. "You know how Nick is. Doesn't want to hurt anyone unless it's absolutely necessary."

* * *

"Whoa!" Monroe is suddenly tugged to his knees by Nick's full weight crashing into his side. He has his head bowed, eyes closed and is breath comes in difficult gasps; it's painful to hear.

"Okay, okay. We'll stop for a while. You alright?"

"Jus'…gimme a min'te…"

Monroe nods and squints ahead for any sign of the forest's edge, but can see nothing but trees and darkness spread out before them. He's not one to freak out. Really. But his brain won't stop telling him that this would be an appropriate time and just looking at Nick—he needs help. God, it's cold.

"M'nroe..." Nick gasps suddenly, and the Blutbad tenses, "S'Roddy 'kay?"

He blows out a long breath before throwing a glance over his shoulder. Roddy has stopped behind them and sits shivering and cross legged on the forest floor, head resting against a tree trunk. He notices Monroe watching him and gives him a slightly shaking thumbs up.

"He's fine. Concentrate on yourself. Ready to get up again?"

"Grumpy..." Nick murmurs and Monroe has to quirk a smile. He pulls Nick back to his feet as slowly and as carefully as he can, but the Grimm still goes a good shade _whiter_, if that's even possible.

"Okay, one foot in front of the other," Monroe mumbles. He doesn't know how much good that'll do, since he's practically carrying the guy.

He's able to stay upright for now, but Monroe doesn't know how far he is from breaking. Grimm or not, there's only so much strain a human body can take and Nick's already lost a frightening amount of blood. Roddy falls into step next to them and Monroe shoots him sideways glance. The kid is breathing hard, head hanging. He looks like hell to put it simply, and is shivering so hard he stumbles.

Where the hell is Juliette?

**000**

The breaking point for Nick comes about an hour later. Monroe's got to hand it to him for holding on so long. The suddenness and silence of Nick's drop, is what terrifies him. It's isn't loud or spectacular, Nick simply folds into himself and slips to the forest floor, dragging Monroe with him.

He twists at the last moment, taking the brunt of the fall with his back and Nick lands on top of him, all dead weight and boneless. Monroe pushes himself up onto his knees, carefully supporting Nick against him, with an arm splayed diagonally up the Grimm's chest. Nick's head tips back and lolls limply against Monroe's collar bone.

He shakes him a little. "Nick. C'mon. We're almost there."

It's no use. The Grimm's not waking anytime soon. Monroe presses two fingers to the side of Nick's neck; his pulse is weak and thready. He's still breathing, but it's a faint sound and comes in shivering gasps.

"Is...he 'kay?" Roddy asks through chattering teeth, warm breath seeping into the cold air in a white cloud. He's hunched over slightly, bracing his hands on his knees.

"He'll be fine," Monroe responds, but looking down at Nick's pale, sweaty face, he barely believes himself, "We need to keep moving, okay? I need your help."

"M'nroe?" It's a whimper, short, pained and frightened. Monroe's head snaps up.

"I think...uh..." Roddy moans and then slides to his knees, doubled over and coughing up a string of thin, white bile.

Monroe's blood runs cold. "Shit. Roddy_. Roddy_. It's okay. Lay down on your side."

He's shaking badly, body still racked by dry heaves and tears streaming down his face. He doesn't even seem aware that Monroe's talking to him.

The dry heaves subside after what seems like forever, and he's left gasping quietly, hands pressed flat against his stomach.

"Roddy? You ok? Talk to me." Monroe can't move with Nick's full unconscious weight sprawled across his lap and he's a good few feet from the kid. He fixes Monroe with a terrified, pleading blue eyed look, then his eyes slide shut, just like that, and he crumples to the ground, head snapping back against the forest floor.

"Roddy!" Monroe tries. It's useless and his voice echoes eerily through the trees. He feels Nick's heartbeat fluttering rapidly but feebly through his shirt and against him and is suddenly transfixed by the slowing rise and fall of the unconscious Grimm's chest.

They're going to die out here.

* * *

Flashing blue and red lights bounce through the dead trees, as Hank follows a squad car, an ambulance and Renard's huge SUV down the uneven, man-made trail through the forest.

He jumps a mile when Juliette abruptly grabs his arm, squeezes tight and cries out "Stop!" so suddenly he slams down on the breaks like a madman. They're violently jerked forward against their seat belts, and Hank grunts at the strain put on his neck.

"Jesus! You okay? What is it?"

Juliette just points out the window on the driver's side. Squinting through the shadows thrown by the trees under the beam of their headlights, he catches a glimpse of what looks like a crumbling and abandoned concrete utility bunker.

"That's where…they kept us."

"Is Nick still in there?" Hank asks, already unbuckling his seat belt.

"No. They probably started off toward the edge of the forest. Go straight. Hurry."

Hank starts the engine again.

To Juliette it seems like hours before Hank slams on the breaks for the second time that night, as Renard's SUV pulls to a halt. He's barely turned the keys in the ignition, when she jumps from the car and tears off through the maze of police vehicles between them and Nick.

She stops short at the scene she's met with. A small clearing is lit by the headlights of the four cars, illuminating the three bodies. Nick is sprawled out on his back, head resting in Monroe's lap and Roddy lays a few feet away, on one side, like a marionette whose strings have been cut; they're all eerily still.

Her heart threatens to choke her.

Nick's eyes are closed and he isn't moving. His chest _isn't moving_. Juliette lurches forward just as three paramedics push past her, but a strong hand wraps around her arm and pulls her back.

"Let them take care of it," Hank says softly, but she can see by the crease in his brow and the way his jaw is set that all he wants to do is rush to his partner's side.

One kneels down next to Roddy, and the other two bend to work on Nick. "What happened?" The male paramedic asks Monroe, and Juliette watches his face work into a frown as he struggles with an explanation. The woman kneeling by Nick's head cuts them both off, loud enough for Juliette to hear, and the four words rip her world apart.

"He's not breathing."

* * *

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Last chapter! Thank you for all the follows, favorites and reviews: it means so much that you stuck around for this story and gave it a chance. And a big thaaaaank you to LittleBounce for all her support and advice through the whole thing. Definitely wouldn't have got this far without your help! So... a**__**fter being massively whumped, our favorite Grimm gets a little TLC now. Happy reading...**_

* * *

Seeing Roddy fall is nearly the last straw for Monroe's frayed nerves. No matter how many times he calls the kid's name, he doesn't even so much as stir, flat on his back on the frozen forest floor.

"Roddy, c'mon, you gotta wake up, kid…"

He really, really doesn't want to move Nick from his lap and onto the cold ground, the guy can't afford to lose anymore body heat, but he needs to make sure Roddy is just unconscious, and that it's not something much worse.

After carefully checking Nick's pulse and breathing again—they're both existent, _thank god_, but frighteningly weak—he slips an arm under Nick's shoulders, and supporting his neck with one, large hand gently lowers him to the ground. Then he hurries over to Roddy, kneeling down next to his head. Okay. He's still breathing, and his pulse is strong. Then suddenly, he starts to stir and a pained moan escapes his dry lips.

"Shhh, it's okay. Just stay down, okay?"

Roddy doesn't open his eyes, but groans in response. Taking that as a _yes_, Monroe darts back to Nick's form, still flat and in the same position he'd left him. His face is ghostly white, and his lips have taken on blue tint, now.

"Shit…_Shit_. Nick, don't do this to me, buddy, c'mon."

Monroe presses shaking fingers to the side of Nick's neck and feels severely lightheaded from the relief of feeling the weak thrum of a pulse against his fingers. He's bending over to listen to Nick's bloodied chest when the deafening sound of engines pierces the frigid silence enveloping them. In less than a second, he's blinded by headlights shining directly at him, and left reeling from the cacophony of four huge cars screeching to a halt at the same time.

Eyes adjusting to the harsh light, Monroe catches a glimpse of Juliette, running towards them through the maze of cars, and Hank reaching out an arm and pulling her back. Then two paramedics kneel down in front of him, one bending over Nick's inert form, the other addressing him.

"Sir? Are you alright? Could you tell me what happened?" A penlight is shined directly into his eyes and cringes away. His head hurts, and he sure as hell isn't coherent enough right now to come up with a plausible story as an answer.

"He's not breathing." _No, no, no… _Monroe's blood runs cold.

"Sir, you need to step back," Nick is lifted off his lap, and he staggers to his feet, backing away from the scene. He watches in a horrified trance as they place a mask over Nick's face and start pushing air into his lungs.

Nothing happens for what could be seconds, hours, days to Monroe. Then, _finally_, Nick jerks the slightest bit, giving a single, pained cough, and his chest picks up its own rise and fall movement again.

"Okay, we've got him… Let's go." One paramedic slips an oxygen mask over Nick's nose and mouth, then he's laid out on a gurney and loaded into the back of an ambulance. He sees Juliette climb in after just before the doors slam shut and the bus tears off through the trees, blue and red lights flashing dizzyingly.

Monroe is vaguely aware of Hank's strong hand squeezing his shoulder before his legs give out and the ground rises up to meet him.

* * *

They've been through this before. Nick is a cop; this isn't the first time Juliette's spent the night by his side at the hospital. Perhaps it's the first time it's been so bad. And she's there the whole time holding his hand in hers, gently rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, even though she knows he won't react to the touch.

They'd got him breathing on his own again pretty quickly, but that did little to calm her shaking hands and ease the heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders. Nick didn't even stir on the ride to the hospital, so the only reassurance that he was still _there_, was the soft rise and fall of his chest. She tried to make herself small, let the paramedics work, and found a corner she could tuck herself into, while still gripping Nick's freezing hand in hers.

The hospital room is softly lit and silent except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor. She's grateful for the calmer atmosphere. The shock of blood all over Nick's chest and clothes has been cleared away, and replaced by thick, white bandages, wrapped all the way around his ribs and right shoulder. The number of wires attached to him is disturbing; he's hooked up to an IV line, a blood transfusion and the clear, plastic tube of a nasal cannula running under his nose.

There's a soft knock on the door and Monroe steps in quietly. He's still wearing his now dirty and ripped flannel shirt, and looks quite appropriately disheveled for what they've been through.

"How is he?" he whispers, and goes to stand beside her.

She swallows thickly. They don't know yet. He's more stable now that he's receiving the last of several blood transfusions, but still needs antibiotics to counter the beginning of an infection.

"He..." she stops, throat closing up. Monroe's large, strong hand comes down gently on her right shoulder and she rests her cheek on it.

"He'll be okay." She lifts her eyes up to his; they're soft, but also filled with worry, as if he doesn't believe what he's saying.

"How's Roddy?"

Monroe sighs. "He's still unconscious. Took a pretty hard blow to the head... They'll know more when the swelling goes down."

A single tear tracks its way down her cheek, but that's all she displays.

"And...his hand?" Monroe's drops from her shoulder and her heart clenches.

"That...they don't know."

* * *

It's been two days since then. Nick is still unconscious.

Monroe is standing outside his room, a small, black bag under his arm and looking unsure. He blows out a long sigh and tips his head back against the wall.

How did they get here? Monroe can keep telling himself they were outnumbered, but he'll still think it's partially his fault. Yes, Nick's strong. And can take care of himself. But not when combatting two blood thirsty reapers.

Down the hall, on the opposite side, a head of brown curls pokes out from a doorway a few rooms down.

"Hey," Roddy calls quietly. Monroe looks up and lets a wan smile crack his lips.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" Roddy slowly extracts himself from the room and pads over to where Monroe is standing. He's wearing a pair of black sweatpants that trail over his socks, and a white t-shirt; his left hand is heavily bandaged and the arm is in a sling. The only visible trace of his head injury, aside from a slight wobble in his step, is the white pad of gauze taped to his forehead.

"I'm good. How's Nick?" His smile falters a little as he peeks through the open blinds of the observation window. Nick still lies utterly still and bare-chested on the bed.

"Same… How's that hard head of yours?" Roddy gives a half-hearted snort and his eyes fall to his mummified hand. His expression darkens.

"They said you'd be good to go after reconstructive surgery and some physical therapy," Monroe tries gently, but laid out like that, it doesn't sound all that promising. Roddy nods and stares at his feet. The two stand in silence for a while, listening to the muted hustle and bustle from the nurse's station down the hall.

"Listen… I couldn't fix your old one..." Monroe begins quietly, "But this is the closest I got."

Looking slightly confused, Roddy lifts his head up and accepts the object Monroe has carefully pulled from the black bag and placed in his outstretched hands.

It's a violin.

Well, not just any violin, but an almost exact replica of his old one that had been smashed to bits. Roddy cradles it in his good arm, eyes wide and shining, and whispers shakily, "Monroe... I… Thank you…"

Monroe helps him slip the instrument back into its case, then to his surprise, the kid reaches out and gives him a warm, one-armed hug. He chuckles and returns it, gently ruffling Roddy's hair. "You're welcome, kiddo."

* * *

Monroe is back at the hospital the next day. Roddy will be discharged in a few hours and when he sticks his head through the half open door, he finds the kid fully dressed, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed with the violin in his lap.

"Oh, hey, Monroe," he says quietly, offering him a weak smile; he looks exhausted.

"You feeling okay today?"

Roddy mumbles a soft _yeah_, leaving Monroe thoroughly unconvinced. He's beginning to doubt the doctor's decision to let Roddy go home; the kid clearly has a little further to go along the road to recovery. But he knows he probably wants to get out of here as fast as he can, and can't blame him.

"Is your dad picking you up?"

Roddy fidgets a little with a slight wince, looking uncomfortable, "He's a little busy."

Monroe sighs. "What do you mean?"

"It's fine, I'll manage."

He takes in Roddy's pale face, and the dark patches under his eyes. "No. You can stay with me."

"It's fine, Monroe, really—"

"Nope. I'll be back in a little while, and you're coming with me, got it? Just relax a little."

On his way out, he catches a glimpse of the kid's tired and relieved smile as he sinks back against the pillows.

Next stop is Nick's room, just down the hall.

Monroe knows what lies behind the door. It's been the same for a few days now. So he carefully pushes the childish shimmer of hope to the back of his mind and enters into the room.

"Holy shit."

Nick is not only awake, but sitting up on the edge of the bed, right arm curled protectively around his chest. He's also pretty close to smacking face first into the floor from the way he's swaying, so Monroe hurries over and steadies him, wrapping a strong arm around his back and sitting down next to him. Somehow, Nick has managed to rip off both IV line and nasal cannula; they're dangling off the edge of the mattress.

"Hey buddy, it's nice to have you…up and about so soon. What the hell are you doing?"

"M'nroe…hey…" Nick croaks, head tipping of its own accord to rest on his friend's shoulder. His face is still white, lips bloodless and there are dark circles under his eyes. His forehead is creased with pained lines, and dappled with cold sweat. "Couldn't…find… J'liette…" He whispers exhaustedly.

Monroe rolls his eyes. "Nick, you have sixty-eight stitches in you; when you need something, could you just try asking for help instead for a while?"

Nick just nods vaguely against his shoulder.

"She's fine, okay? And, tell you what, I'll even let her know you're awake. Now let's get you flat again." Monroe gently lowers Nick back against the pillows; he screws his eyes shut, left hand clenching into a tight fist. He lifts the Grimm's legs back up onto the mattress after, and pulls the covers over him. The slightest bit of color has returned to Nick's face, and he lets out a soft sigh.

"S'Roddy ok?"

"He's fine too. Call me if you need anything."

Nick smiles faintly, dropping off again, and Monroe leaves to get a nurse.

* * *

The next time Nick wakes, he's a little more coherent. The nasal cannula is back on, and he's vaguely aware of the pinch of an IV in the crook of his arm.

"Nick?" A smaller hand gently grasps his, and Juliette's face appears above him.

"Hey," he whispers and she gives him a watery, little smile.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she says gently, her other hand traveling to the side of his face.

"… How long-?" he croaks; his throat feels so dry.

Juliette's brow creases slightly and she closes her eyes. "Four days. You stopped…" she takes a deep breath and quickly dries the single tear tracking its way down her pale cheek. "You stopped breathing… I don't even know how all this happened… I…"

She covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob. Nick pulls her close to his chest, ignoring the sharp pain it sends through his chest and shoulder.

"I'm… I'm sorry, okay?" He kisses her forehead. The one thing that made lying to her fractionally less painful had been the knowledge that she'd never get dragged into something like this. Now it's too late. All of a sudden, he feels so lost and so _alone, _he thinks he'll break; the physical pain and fragility he already feels are not helping in the least.

Then Juliette speaks up, her voice vibrating against his chest.

"I know."

He tenses. She pushes herself up so that their eyes meet. "Hank told me. A little bit, at least. About what you can do, what you can see…" She cups his cheek, "I wish I had just believed you… I wish it hadn't had to come to this for me to find out the truth."

Nick doesn't know what to say, but couldn't have spoken past the tightness in his throat at the moment anyway. Lying to her had been unbearable. Seeing the disappointment, the hurt on her face… was worse than the whole Grimm _issue_ itself.

"Talk to me, Nick," she says softly, looking a little scared. He reaches for her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"I love you," he whispers, still not trusting his voice, "I didn't want to keep _this_ from you. But I couldn't…put you in danger. I don't know how to make you understand. If anything ever happened…" his voice breaks off and he swallows hard past the lump in his throat.

Juliette's expression is serious. "I understand, now. And it kills me that I didn't even give you a chance…or the benefit of the doubt before. Just… No more secrets. Okay?"

Nick nods, and draws her close. Their lips connect, and it's like they're feeling each other for the first time in what seems like an eternity. He never wants to let go.

"Whoa!" Monroe all but bursts through the door, and rapidly averts his eyes, "Sorry, didn't know I was interrupting a… um, moment here." He clears his throat loudly, Nick rolls his eyes and Juliette straightens out her blouse with a sheepish smile.

"I'd better get going," she says, standing and bending to place another kiss on Nick's lips. "I love you," she whispers, and leaves the room.

Monroe pulls up her vacated chair up to the head of the bed. "So… Looks like things are okay between you too."

"Looks like it." Nick smiles, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

Monroe snorts. "You've got a _ton_ of explaining ahead of you though, man. Good luck with that."

Nick doesn't mind in the least.

* * *

_The End_


End file.
